


a walk in the park

by Skyuni123



Series: One-Off Media Ficlets [11]
Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Women, Bisexual Character, Bisexuality, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Vignette, Women Being Awesome, mmmm im gay, that's my reasoning for this tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: Ilsa and Julia, some bourbon, and some kissing.





	a walk in the park

It’s the tag-end of a mission. Nothing particularly complex - just breaking up a human trafficking ring within the backstreets of London. 

It’s as close to a walk in the park as espionage work ever tends to be.

But now, everything is over. Ilsa’s got a week of leave, there’s no assassins on her tail - as far as she knows - and MI6 actively doesn’t want to kill her any more.

 

It’s... _ nice. _

  
  


While it would be preferable to spend her downtime with the rest of her team, Ethan, Jane and Luther are in Australia, Will is on leave for a wedding, and Benji is in deep cover in Senegal. 

There’s always some of her old colleagues from MI6 - acquaintances, nothing more - but she doubts that they’ll be especially pleased to hear from her after the Solomon Lane fiasco. 

  
  


The silence in her hotel room makes her throw caution to the wind.

She goes out instead.

  
  


The bar is fairly empty for a Saturday. Ilsa’s not one for vices - never really has been - but a couple of fingers of bourbon is enough to take the edge off her mind. Non-agents don’t really understand the jitteriness that follows several days of intensely stressful activity. They never quite get how hard it is to get rid of the urge to be constantly watching one’s own back.

The bourbon stings as it goes down, but it’s exactly what she needs. 

 

She turns away from the bar, intending to head back to a couch and catch up on some reading, and runs straight into Julia Meade. 

 

“Ilsa?”

 

“Julia?”

 

“Sorry, I was just -” They both say it at the same time, and really, it’s terribly cliche.

 

Julia smiles at her, gently and apologetically, and Ilsa’s suddenly very aware of at least one of the reasons that Ethan married her. Julia is likeable, almost irritatingly so, and she’s utterly stunning too. “Sorry. I was just trying to get a drink, and didn’t look where I was going. Bad of me. What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m taking some time off.” Ilsa replies. She really doesn’t know the other women that well, having had only a glancing moment with her and her husband before they’d all departed from Kashmir. However, she’d liked her tenacity and recognised her position.

 

Ethan Hunt had came into their lives and changed them both. 

 

“Well, you’re in the same boat as me. I’m between jobs right now. Can I buy you a drink?”

 

She’s surprised at the offer, but it is a welcome one. “That’s very kind of you. What are you drinking?”

 

“Nothing fancy, really. Is bourbon okay?”

 

“You’re a woman after my own heart, Julia.” 

 

Julia laughs and moves past her to the bar. “Ethan Hunt certainly has a type.” 

 

She supposes she can’t dispute that.

  
  


They sit together at a small table in the corner of the bar. Ilsa has her back to the wall, as she always does, just for safety’s sake.

It doesn’t hurt to make these precautions, even if most of her decisions come down to a flip of a coin. 

 

“How’s your husband?” She asks, because there’s really not much else that she knows about Julia. It’s cliche, and really, the feminist inside her is screaming to open with something else, but right now, there’s nothing more that she can say.

 

“Which one?” Julia laughs, presumably at her surprised expression. “I’m joking. Patrick’s fine. He’s good. He’s working down at St Bart’s, and I’m starting on there soon too. How’s Ethan?”

 

“He’s… Ethan.”

 

It’s very hard to describe the man. Utterly brilliant, completely mad - he’s an 5 foot 7 enigma that words just can’t encapsulate. She says as much to Julia.

 

“Yeah, I understand the conundrum.” Julia says, and then sips at her drink. “Even when we were together I found it hard to explain him to people. He’s a maniac - but in the best way. You all are.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 

“You should.” Julia meets her eyes and licks a bead of bourbon off her bottom lip.

Well. Isn’t that an interesting move? Something in her expression sends a bolt of heat right down to the pit of her stomach, and Ilsa’s not sure that she minds. 

 

They talk for a while, mostly about mundane things - dalliances, shared experiences. It’s hard to move past the fact that their only connecting factor seems to be Ethan Hunt.

Also, Ilsa has her past to contend with. There’s only so much that she can say to a civilian, and she absolutely doesn’t want to put Julia in danger.

Julia has no such qualms. She talks at length about her volunteer work, her time with Médecins Sans Frontières, how she’d saved a passenger’s life on a flight between France and the US -

It’s fascinating. Ilsa’s always admired competency, and Julia is full of it. With her work and her strength - they’re two sides of the same coin, except Julia doesn’t kill people to tie up loose ends.

 

She doesn’t realise she’s leaning forward, getting more into Julia’s personal space than is probably strictly necessary, until Julia clears her throat and interrupts herself in the middle of a sentence about the Andes. “Are you feeling alright, Ilsa?”

 

“What - yes - uh, sorry!” It’s not like her to be caught so off guard - it very rarely happens outside of Ethan’s company - but Julia is just so  _ disarming.  _ The alcohol and the post-mission high probably doesn’t help matters. “What you do is fantastic. Saving lives like that - It’s commendable.”

 

“Well.” Julia says, and looks up at Ilsa through her eyelashes. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

 

Ilsa knows flirting when she sees it. It’s literally what she was trained to do. What she doesn’t know is why  _ Julia  _ of all people is trying to flirt with her. It’s not like she’s  _ unattractive  _ \- far from it - and she’s highly intelligent and competent…

But she’s also married. Thoroughly so. 

However, it would be remiss not to reciprocate. Even if it doesn’t go any further. “I’m just saying it how I see it, Julia. I couldn’t do half the things you have done.”

 

“And I couldn’t do half the things you’ve done, so I guess we’re about even then.” Julia eyes her glass, which is now empty. “You’re finished. Should we go for a walk? The weather isn’t terrible. If you want to, that is.”

 

“You know, I think I do.”

  
  


London isn’t quiet at night - far from it, in fact - but there’s a measure of calm down by the Thames. A few louts are hanging around Paul’s Walk, but they don’t give them much notice after Ilsa stares them down.

After far too many years working in espionage, she’s still got her death stare.

 

“You should teach me that.” Julia laughs, observing the look with some amusement. “It’d make inoculating petulant teen boys far easier.”

 

“Spend enough time with me and you’ll pick it up.”

 

“I might just do that, Ilsa.”

 

Well, that’s  _ definitely  _ flirting. And Ilsa is really, very tempted - but she’s also not a homewrecker. She doesn’t make a habit of ruining relationships unless the job depends on it.

 

So she stops. She asks. A fleeting moment of embarrassment is far better than getting more wires crossed. “I apologise in advance, Julia, but -”

 

“Why am I trying it on with you?” Julia doesn’t look horrified by the thought, but instead rather amused. Well, that’s something.

 

“Something like that, yes.” 

 

“Because you’re incredible.” She replies, with a shrug, and pushes back a lock of hair behind her ear. The wind’s whipped up a bit, and it’s going everywhere, but it’s still somehow endearing. “What you did in Kashmir was  _ incredible.  _ All of you. Plus, I’m a sucker for a pretty face.” Julia lays a hand on her arm in a way that is reassuring and also very, very tempting. 

 

The ego boost is a nice touch, but she drags herself away. “Julia. You’re married.”

 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Julia grips on, just a little bit, and it’s so,  _ so  _ nice to feel a touch on her skin that doesn’t immediately bring pain. “Patrick and I spend so much time apart that it’s impossible to be exclusive and we don’t even try. He loves me, I love him - but we’re never going to be that kind of couple.”

 

Julia’s close enough that Ilsa can hear the ring of truth in her voice. Her instincts are very rarely wrong, and Julia doesn’t sound like she’s lying. Shit. It’s not like she’s even got an excuse any more. 

And maybe she doesn’t need one.

The thought of spending some time with a woman who’s had no taste of violence - who doesn’t know the toll espionage takes - is intoxicating. She doesn’t know when the last time she slept with someone outside of a mission was.

 

So she makes a decision.

All of her qualms can go to hell.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

Julia grins. “I’ve been waiting all night for you to say that.”

 

She kisses like she speaks - with precision, care, and a lot of giving. It’s pleasant in a way that Ilsa hasn’t felt in a long, long time. Ilsa cups her chin and pulls her in deeper, letting her fingers ghost over her jaw and to the nape of her neck, right where the skin is thinnest. 

Julia shivers under her touch, and she lets her hands wander. Just a bit, just an exploration, just a taster of what to come.

 

It’s the high-pitched whistling of the youths that causes them to break apart.

 

“Ah. Yes. Public place.” Julia says, a bit giddily, and grasps onto her hand. “Tell you what, I live just down the road if you’re interested?”

 

Ilsa can’t stop staring at her lips. Julia tastes like bourbon and the faintest hint of fruit Chapstick, and she wants more. “I’d like that.”

 

Julia eyes her up and down for a moment, and her lips quirk. “MI6 won’t drag you away just as things start to get interesting?”

 

“They better not try.”   
  


 

It’s the first one-night stand she’s not regretted in a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com) for more of my gay nonsense


End file.
